Russian Roulette
by vamp of alium sativum
Summary: Clint questions his choice of asking Natasha out. He never saw their night getting to this point. Way more innocent than it sounds, I promise. Three-shot. Crackfic, kinda… rated for the paranoia of the author.
1. Chapter 1

Rating: K+/T

Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel (or any of their characters) but it's on my Christmas list...

A/N: hello, fair Mortals! I have emerged from my hiatus once again to bring you this jewel of literary greatness...not... *crickets chirping in the silence* Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter One

Clint had no idea that his fun evening out with Natasha would turn on him like this. After they were finished with dinner, Natasha decided that it was time for her favorite part of dating. Clint, being a guy, naturally hoped that _her _favorite part of dating was the same as _his _favorite part. Clint should have known better.

Crazy Russian Girlfriend= crazy crap entertainment named after the Russians.

And that was why he was in an interrogation room. Bound to a chair. He had no idea what he had done to piss her off. All he knew for sure was that it wouldn't end well for him. Suddenly, a bright light came on, causing him to see spots. For the first time, he was able to see his surroundings. Blank brick walls. Camera in the corner, with a blinking red light letting him know that the tape was rolling. Natasha had shed the lightweight gray shawl she had been wearing during dinner. The strapless black dress showed off curves that would cause any man's jaw to drop. But Clint was no ordinary man. His eyes rested on the item she held in her hands.

She had a gun.

Despite the nippy climate in this particular interrogation room, He broke out in a sweat.

A/N: tune in next week when we shall find out why dear Clint is being interrogated. btw, I already have everything written, and all the documents loaded, so it shall for surely be next week, unless I get no response, because then it shall not be worth my time...so review! Please!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you to the 2 reviewers and 3 followers! you make my day!

Chapter Two

Needless to say, Natasha was enjoying this a bit more than Barton was. She did this to all men who asked her out, why should her partner get special treatment? Given, this was slightly different than other games of Roulette she had played, but still, it was fun to see him squirm. She paced around Clint, looking slyly at her gun. He watched her every move. She waited until she was directly in front of him to open up the chamber of the revolver and remove all but one of the extra special bullets.

"Let the interrogation begin!" She said menacingly as she snapped the chamber shut. Clint swallowed nervously. He could hear the blood pumping through his head.

"Tasha, I have no idea what happened, but whatever it was, I'm…"

"Shut up, Barton. I'm not sure that you are aware of how this works. I'll ask the questions. You'll answer them. If I don't like the answer…let's just say, your odds go down." Natasha said, still pacing. She spun the chamber right in Clint's ear.

"we'll start out nice and easy." She said while cocking the gun. "How's that sound?"

"Considering that I still have no idea what's going on…" Natasha cut him off by holding the gun to his temple and pulling the trigger.

"Rhetorical question, requires no answer." Natasha breathed in his ear after the gun clicked.

Clint let out the breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"Now for the real questions." Natasha said, re-cocking the gun. Clint shrugged his shoulders. He still had no clue what was happening.

"Where were you the night of December 15? The night I baked cookies?" She asked, standing behind him. he knew she had the gun pointed at the middle of his head. Part of him wondered about her question. She knew where he had been. The other part of him wondered where she was going with this line of questioning.

"Tasha, you know I was at the tower. With you and Bruce and Tony and…well, everyone. We were all waiting for the cookies to get done." Clint answered warily, lest he be shot in the back of the head. Natasha seemed to accept his answer.

"Excellent answer. Now, what kind of cookies were they?"

"Uh, I think they were…" Clint was interrupted by a click in the proximity of the back of his head.

"You hesitated." Natasha said, cocking the gun again. "That makes two of six. It might be in your best interest to come up with the real story. Now, where were we?"

"The cookies… they were some Russian something or other…I don't remember what they were called, but they were really good." Clint said, trying to appease his interrogator with compliments. Natasha almost bought it.

"So you confess to eating them?" she deduced. She walked around in front of him and aimed the gun at his forehead.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa… this is all because someone ate your cookies? Why did you bake them if you didn't want anyone to eat them?"

"They were for the bake sale! But the team, led by you, fell on them like vultures on road kill, and not a single one made it out of the building. Care to guess who ate the last one?" Clint closed his eyes and remained silent. Natasha pulled the trigger.

A/N: weird. I know... leave a review, please.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Okay, so originally, the plan was to write three chapters, then update weekly. The plan failed. so, I'm updating early this week! and, last week was Christmas, and all that kind of stuff. and I worked the four days after Christmas and really didn't feel like messing with it.

Happy New Year! I am leaving 2013 behind with no story un-completed! so without further ado...the final chapter!

Chapter 3

No matter what, Clint could not be persuaded to come out of the air vents. He was too embarrassed to show his face In front of the team. Particularly Tony. He would never hear the end of it if Tony found out. But it was all good. He had special ninja-assassin training that allowed him to remain motionless for hours at a time. And besides that, he had all the entertainment he could possibly need for the foreseeable future. Time for a fruit-ninja marathon.

_8.5 hours later..._

Okay, so even the best ninja-assassin needs a bathroom break now and then, right? After Clint was nearly certain that everyone was asleep, he found a vent cover and swung himself down through it. He was in a hallway in the common area, not ten feet from the bathroom door. He began a mad dash towards the door, hoping to avoid contact with anyone.

Of course, Clint couldn't be so lucky. He heard footsteps coming up behind him. "Hey, William Tell! good to see you out of the air vents!" Tony said sarcastically.

Clint whipped around, his hand covering his forehead. "Hi, Tony…uh… what are you doing up at this time of night…" Tony looked at his watch "…day… whatever…" Clint asked nonchalantly. Time kind of gets away from you when you've been sitting in a dark tunnel in the ceiling for hours.

Tony didn't answer, but instead stood there with his arms crossed, staring at Clint.

"Don't you have some super sciency stuff to figure out? Or something more important than staking out the BATHROOM?" Clint whisper-shouted.

He had been in the airvents for almost nine hours, and he was desperate not to reveal his…problem… from his night out with Natasha.

"Why are you covering your forehead?" Tony asked annoyingly. Clint knew that Tony wouldn't let him out of this without knowing the real reason, so he took his hand off his forehead. The Nerf dart that Natasha had superglued to his forehead the night before was revealed. Tony burst out laughing. Apparently Natasha was as good a shot with a Nerf gun as she was with any other weapon. Clint quickly had Tony in a choke hold with a hand covering his mouth. "Stark, if you tell anyone about this, you're a dead man." Tony nodded in agreement. As soon as Clint let him go, he walked warily back to his lab.

After Clint…uh…was…finished, he went to his apartment on one of the private floors of the tower, and went to sleep.

Jarvis woke him up at his usual time to go down to the gym. But today, Clint decided to check email and facebook first.

Apparently Tony hadn't taken his threat seriously. Posted on Tony's Facebook profile was a cleaned up surveillance picture of Clint with a Nerf dart stuck to his forehead. Underneath the picture was the little thumbs up button, and words that astonished Clint.

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